


At Night

by LittleSammy



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSammy/pseuds/LittleSammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she is with him, she is a different Ziva than the one he sees at work. And there are moments when Tony wishes for more of <em>that</em> Ziva.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Night

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings & notes: ** set early in season 8 for the mood, probably a bit after "Dead Air", but no spoilers.
> 
> This is pure, unadulterated fluff and schmoop and something to warm the heart, and neither my muses nor I feel the need to apologize for it. This is my 50th Tony/Ziva story since the end of January '10, after all, and it felt like just the right vibe to celebrate that. :)

_I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day. -- Vincent Van Gogh_

*** *** ***

Watching Ziva get ready to drive home was always something that made Tony feel torn. He didn't really like the fact that she drove home each night to begin with, and lately he had thought quite a few times about keeping her for longer than just the few hours she gave him every other day. Sweet, intense hours that had started out innocently as movie nights once and then first had turned into make out nights and from there into make love nights. He liked how that had happened, naturally, without them fuzzing too much about the implications of it, and he certainly liked the fact that lately she had stayed a few minutes longer each time she came over.

What he didn't like was the fact that it seemed to become harder and harder to let her go each time. To watch her drive off and then go to bed alone and fall asleep alone and wake up, still alone. It had begun to irk him, and a slightly childish part of him chimed in with the remark that it just wasn't fair. Not after what they had shared over the past weeks.

But despite the growing urge to keep her with him, there was a part of Tony that found it utterly fascinating to watch his partner get dressed - not on a mere physical level, but emotionally. One moment she was this wonderful, relaxed, sexy thing in his arms. The kind of woman who could get off on the way he licked her skin and inhaled her scent and discovered new things about her each time he touched her. The kind of woman who could turn from playful to demanding to gentle in the span of just a few heartbeats. The kind of woman who had come to gladly leave the sarcasm at the doorstep because in his bed and in his arms there was no room for it.

And then, with each layer of clothing, with each button she closed and with each hair she pulled back into her tight ponytail, the regular Ziva came back. The one who was logical and professional and yes, playful, too, but in a completely different way. She put on her clothes, and that turned her from the wanton kitten into no-nonsense Ziva and no-touching Ziva, and even though this Ziva was quite affectionate towards him, too, she rarely showed it when others were around. Not the way his private Ziva did.

He sighed and leaned his head against the door frame, watching her. She was almost done with her ponytail, and that meant she was almost ready to leave, and tonight it was just a little too hard for him to accept that.

Her eyes flicked to the side just then and met his in the mirror, and for a moment her face softened again. And then she smiled at him so fondly that his heart stuttered and missed a beat or two. She said his name, very softly. Her voice was still as relaxed as her gaze, not quite back in her professional shell yet, and Tony felt his skin tighten with the sudden need to have her for just a little longer. 

He had never been as good at distancing himself from her for their work hours, especially on nights like this one, when his skin and mind still tingled from the intimacy and the closeness they had shared for hours. It always took him the better part of the night to get a grip, until he felt like he could look at her in the morning again without giving her a telltale grin that would have made even the Probie notice something was up. And because the night was still young and he hadn't even made it halfway there yet, he closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips to her neck.

She reacted to him so easily, almost melting into his embrace, and he smiled against her skin when she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against his shoulder. When it came to all things physical, she had always been easy to read for him, but lately touching her had turned into something incredibly rewarding for him, simply because she responded so willingly to his touch. Just like now, when she turned around to face him and her arm came up around his neck to pull him into a kiss.

Soft laughter bubbled over her lips when he lifted her up instead until she sat on the edge of the sink. It wasn't a girly laugh, but a low sound deep in her throat instead, and it sent his skin tingling again. And he couldn't help himself then, he leaned into her until she spread her legs for him so he could settle between them, and then she ran her fingers through his hair. Her lips moved slowly against his mouth, leisurely, and his name was on them again, and god, he wanted her so much that the mere thought of letting her go now hurt almost physically.

Her breath hitched in her throat when his fingertips slipped under her shirt, teasing her and exploring her skin, and he knew that she wanted to say something now, that she wanted to stop this because she'd been almost on her way out after all, and it gave him a rush to see that she couldn't. That her eyes fluttered shut again when he ran his mouth along her throat with a satisfied hum and that his hands made her skin erupt in goose flesh and that her pulse suddenly fluttered nervously against his lips.

"Tony," she said, and again there was soft laughter ringing in her voice, only this time it was slightly breathless. "I really need to go home."

"Why?" he asked and ran his mouth over her skin, and she shuddered against him and turned her head out of reflex so she could lick his ear lobe.

"Because I need to get up at five again," she murmured, her breath the softest caress against his skin, and he moaned, pressing into her a little more insistently for a second. 

Then he drew back to look at her, and Ziva's smile was suddenly so sweet and intimate that he returned it with something that must have looked pretty lovesick. He pressed another kiss to her lips, almost chaste this time, and she sighed against his mouth and relished his caress just that little moment longer. His hands came up to frame her face, and when she leaned into him, his fingers moved to the back of her neck and dug into her hair until the band she had tied it back with came loose. She made a soft sound of protest against his lips, but when she pulled back to look at him she only managed to give him a small frown that was easily chased away by a smile he didn't see on her face all that often.

"I like you better with your hair down," he said, and she chuckled because for once she got the double meaning. He brushed her hair back and wove his fingers into it and let his hands frame her face. "And you wouldn't have to get up at five if you'd stay for once."

Her pulse spiked against his palm, and if he hadn't been touching her like he did, he probably wouldn't have noticed how his offer and his sudden seriousness affected her.

"I can't wear the same clothes to work twice," she replied slowly, thinking furiously, but still sounding breathless and a little excited. And it was deeply satisfying to hear her voice like that. It sent a rush through him, and it made him feel like he was actually winning this argument, and so he leaned into her again and kissed her throat and let his fingertips travel back underneath her shirt.

"What happened to the set of spares in your trunk?" he murmured, licking the pulse in her throat, and it suddenly fluttered against his tongue. 

"Need washing," she murmured, and then she shuddered softly, deliciously distracted all of a sudden. 

And that made Tony decide to push his luck a little further. "I have enough shirts you can borrow."

She laughed again, and the sound, so rough and intimate and _knowing_ , sent goose bumps down his back. "I will not borrow a shirt from you," she declared in a strange mixture of firm and lost in thought. "I might as well wear one that says _'DiNozzo's'_."

"Mmh, I like that," he chuckled against her throat, and even though her sigh held a hint of exasperation, he felt her thighs tighten around his hips as she dragged him towards her and basked in the attention he offered her body. "You really think anybody's going to recognize a generic men's shirt as mine?"

"One, you don't own generic shirts," she murmured and ran her hands down his neck. When he hummed in appreciation, she let her fingertips slip into his collar, searching for more skin to touch. "And two, no, they will just see it's not mine. And no, they won't say anything. There's only one guy who would jump onto this opportunity openly and give me grief about it..." 

Her voice trailed off with a suggestive lilt to it, and he sighed and concluded her sentence. "... and he owns the shirt..."

"Correct," she said and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, kissing him so softly that he couldn't help thinking of it as a reward. God, he was easy, but he loved it when she did that. "And you won't say anything, of course, and you will just look at me with that goofy smile on your face all day, and that'll be just as good as marking me as yours right there on Gibbs's desk."

"What smile?" he protested and tried to ignore the slightly disturbing fantasies her words had brought up. His hand slipped around her waist, and even though he could already feel her body in more detail than he had thought possible, he pulled her just that tiny bit closer to his chest. "I don't smile. Especially not around you."

"Yes, you do," she chuckled. Her fingertips pressed against the base of his neck and rubbed softly, loosening the knot she had found there, and Tony moaned and closed his eyes. "And you know exactly what smile I am talking about."

"Okay, maybe," he gave in, and Ziva laughed at his pout and kiss-rewarded him once more. He sighed and pressed his face into the curve of her neck until her body lost the last of its tension and she melted into his embrace. He still wasn't sure how to let go of her tonight. Not when she was still so alive and vibrant in his arms.

"It just gets harder, you know?" he murmured suddenly. "To let you run off like that when all I want is to spend the night with you."

And those words, quite unexpected on both sides of the conversation, made Ziva fall very, very still in his arms.

He blinked, spreading his fingers on her skin and under her shirt, trying not to ask himself if he had scared her off with that. Trying even harder not to ask if he had scared _himself_ off with those simple words, tumbling over his lips when his guard was down. Because they had never really talked about all of this before, they had just accepted it as what it was, and now it was suddenly out there, the fact that he really wanted more of her when he wasn't sure yet if she wanted the same. 

And god, yes, as long as he was being truthful here, he wanted her so badly by now that it sometimes scared the crap out of him. Maybe it had started out as something as simple as sex, but now, now he wanted _her_ , not just for the sex and the movies and the cuddling, but for falling asleep with her and mostly for waking up with her again and just being there, and maybe, if there was time for it after making love to her again in the morning, for having breakfast together and coffee and...

He felt her take a deep breath, and when she tilted her head to search his face, he shrugged apologetically, looking slightly sheepish. "Sorry," he said. "Guess I'm bad at keeping secrets."

And just like that, Ziva suddenly smiled at him, her mouth twitching in amusement and affection, and if he had felt just a little more sarcastic he might have accused her of mocking him with the same kind of grin he had given her a lot lately.

"My secret," she said softly, and her hands slid down his chest, inexplicably loosening buttons on their way down, "is that I do have fresh clothes in my trunk, too."

He blinked and stared at her for a moment in confusion, and then her words hit him and made his head spin and his pulse beat faster with sudden anticipation.

"And...?" he asked because he needed to make sure. And heck, yes, because he wanted her to say it.

"And I am not going to get more sleep, am I?"

He suddenly felt like grinning widely enough to make his face hurt, and then he pulled her up flush against his chest and kissed her again until she was so distracted that she didn't protest against his fingers slipping under her bra and opening it. 

"Not if you keep smiling at me like that," he murmured into her mouth.

And Ziva laughed and replied, hushed and giddy and out of breath, "I don't smile."


End file.
